A Moment of Change
by romanovaly
Summary: Being kidnapped is not good under any circumstances. But being kidnapped while a serial killer is after NYC's socialites and there is a wedding to plan is just unfortunate. Sequel to Finding Your Way Back Home. Alternate Universe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hey, so this is a sequel to a story I wrote called _Finding Your Way Back Home_, and in all honesty, you have to read that before you can dive into this because a lot of information was introduced in the previous story.

This is total AU, by the by.

For those of you who have read FYWBH, I present to you the surprising sequel. I hadn't meant on writing it, but I was struck with inspiration and in all honesty, I really like this world that I managed to create.

I know some people don't like reading stories with certain characters 'shipped together so here's my blanket overview: Troy/Gabriella. Background Ryan/Kelsi. If you're a New York fan, FYWBH was written before Greater Good, so Danny/Lindsay are together, but their daughter is named Alexia.

**Disclaimer:** HSM belongs to Disney. CSI: NY belongs to Anthony Zuiker. I make absolutely no money off of clumping these two worlds together. Also, this is inspired by Kathy Reichs' _206 Bones_, I don't own that either.

* * *

**A Moment of Change**

Chapter 1

_"A woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect herself" – Susan B. Anthony_

:::

Cold.

Dark.

Stillness.

_Those were the only thoughts that ran through my head at first, followed by the rushing feeling of panic. The darkness pressed a thick blanket over my eyes. It made me wonder if my lids were open or closed._

Was I dead?

_But I vetoed that thought with a bit of logic. I could feel my chest contracting and expanding as I took in shallow breaths. I felt pain all over my body. My teeth chattered as a cool wind brushed my bare arms. My hands were tied behind my back. My feet were bound together. How long had I been down here? Where was _here_? My ears were ringing, my mouth was open. It took me a few moments to realize that I was screaming._

Think_, I told to myself. But instead of logic, my mind screamed in horror. Instinct overruled all of my other senses and in my fit of despair I tried to yank apart my limbs. Bad move, I thought as pain shot up my left arm and a burning sensation centralized in my right leg. My head pounded as it scraped against the concrete floor and I could hear myself moan in pain before everything went dark._

_I awoke to the same prison. Time didn't matter. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours. It was still cold. The pain had receded to a dull ache. The darkness was still all consuming. I took a deep breath. Sense of smell returned. It was musky. As if nothing had been in here for awhile. But at the same time, there was the smell of something dying. Terror ran through my veins as I assessed my situation._

_I tried to recall how I ended up here, but my mind drew a blank. My head pounded as I strained to remember something, anything. A few memories flashed before me._

_A bar. I was surrounded by friends, our glasses clinking as we shared a laugh and a game of pool._

_There was a loud crowd. I remembered cheering in excitement at a basketball game._

_There was the unmistakable sound of a cash register; the feeling of many shopping bags weighing me down._

_I groaned in frustration. When had these memories occurred? _Had_ these memories occurred? My brain felt like it had been scrambled. I closed my eyes. The black of the room and of my eyelids suffocated me. And my eyes flew open in hope of a sliver of light. I could feel the burn of tears behind my eyes and tried to banish the feeling. This was no time for tears. This was a time for planning._

_I rocked from my prone position to one of an upwards one, using the heels of my palms as leverage. But I immediately cried out in pain, my left wrist ached under the pressure. Biting down hard on my bottom lip I forged on, desperate to find a way out of wherever I was._

_Scooting backwards on my butt, my fingers feeling out for anything, my mind was left to wander. It was left to dwell in panic at the thought of dying in a room. Alone. Soon, I was helpless to stopping the flow of the tears cascading down my face and of my desperate shouts for help._

_My back came in contact with a hard surface. A wall. It was rough, most likely concrete._

_I choked out another cry for help as a realization resonated within me. I had been kidnapped._

_Questions came back in full force, but this time they were controlled rather than wrought with terror. The basic question. Why was I taken? Was I being stalked? Held for ransom? Targeted?_

_A memory floated to the surface. Alternating red and blue lights. Yellow tape emblazoned with the words: Police Line Do Not Cross. The flash from cameras freezing a moment in time. A scene. A job to do._

_Suddenly thoughts were chasing thoughts in my muddled brain. Gabriella Montez. A lab filled with state-of-the-art forensic technology. A book signing for my latest best-seller, _A Deadly Prize_. Central Park in the springtime, walking beside someone. A birthday party for a little girl with golden curls, bright blue eyes, and a heap of presents._

_And a case. Three dead women joined the cacophony of images. Three families with tears in their eyes as a detective told them the devastating news._

_Had I become the next victim? Had the killer thought that I was a threat and decided to silence me before I could get too close?_

_My frustration was back again. My wrists strained against their bindings. My skin was torn against the rough concrete. And a foreign feeling, a sudden discovery. My right fingers tentatively traced the object heavy on my left hand. My eyes closed once again as recollections gathered in my mind._

* * *

Review Please!


	2. Back to the Grind

**Thanks for reviewing/alerting/fav-ing: **_all. is. pretty, __Midnight113__, pumpkinking5, EmmaWoodhouse88, Savannah O'Ryan, IrethK, palmbeach, _and _caro9623 _

**Disclaimer:** HSM belongs to Disney. CSI: NY belongs to CBS.

* * *

**A Moment of Change**

Chapter 2

_You can change your style, yeah your can change your jeans  
You can learn to fly and you can chase your dreams  
You can laugh and cry but everybody knows  
You'll always find your way back home_

_– Hannah Montana_

:::

I was floating in and out of the conversation. I nodded at the times she paused during her monologues and faked interest as she pointed out flowers and color swatches and china designs. I probably should have paid more attention, given that the voice was attempting to plan one of the most important moments in my life. But… when do I ever do things by the book?

The wedding details were not the important part. At least to me they weren't. I am sure if you asked the lady I hired to help me with the details (Elizabeth _something-or-other_, I think her name was) there would be an hour long explanation as to why the angle of the name cards had to be precisely forty-five degrees plus a short film documentary. In my opinion, the important part was saying, "I do" and not getting wasted on champagne afterwards.

Still. I did want it to be perfect. I wanted that fairytale ending Dad had promised me long ago. I was still a girl. A girl who had dreamt of marrying Prince Charming in a beautiful white gown as everyone looked on.

I was also a girl who had wanted her daddy to walk her down the aisle and give her away.

Sighing, I picked up another color swatch (pink this time) and held it up against the dainty china cup.

"What do you think Gabriella?" the voice asked, breaking my internal thought process.

"Hmm?"

"I think that pink looks rather washed out next that," Elizabeth said consolingly.

"I was just playing mix-and-match," I replied with a shrug.

"Oh," Elizabeth seemed disappointed and I wondered for the thousandth time why I hired her. "Well, what do you think the color scheme should be," she pressed. "The wedding is in a little more than two months, dear, and you have yet to make any decisions. I may be a miracle worker, but I can only do so much."

I found myself willing for a dead body to be found so that I could leave, but I knew Elizabeth was right. She could only do so much and if I wanted that fairytale wedding, I was going to have to start making decisions.

"Sorry Elizabeth," I found myself saying. "Just been a bit preoccupied."

"Understandable," stated the older woman. "Many young brides are overwhelmed by the sheer planning it takes to get married."

_Oh, she only _wishes_ that is the only thing on my mind._ But courteously, I kept my mouth shut and nodded my head, "Yeah, I thought it would be just a couple of fittings and that's that."

Elizabeth tittered a laugh and before I could continue, a couple voices break into our conversation.

"Well if it isn't my favorite best-selling author," greeted Ryan Evans as he leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek and shake Elizabeth's hand. Kelsi was right behind him, their two-month old son, Aidan, settled in his stroller.

"If it isn't my favorite Tony Award-winning duo," I countered with a large grin. "What are you guys doing?" I asked as I made my way to Kelsi's side to give her a hug.

"We were just walking to the Park and Ryan spotted you," she told me as the two of them settled into the empty chairs. Kelsi surveyed the café table and whistled, "Wedding plans. Remember those Ryan?"

The blonde scowled. "I'd rather not think of china designs ever again."

"Why," I teased. "You loved that stuff."

Ryan just gave a noncommittal grunt while Kelsi and I laugh loudly. Elizabeth watched us hesitantly, "Um Gabriella, I would like to have something to plan your wedding around."

Kelsi groaned next to me. "Have you done _anything_ yet?"

"We sent out the invitations and booked the hall," I told her. "Doesn't that count for something?"

"It counts for barely _anything_." If I wasn't mistaken, Kelsi's voice sounded slightly hysterical. "That is the bare minimum. It's like announcing how long a production will be running, but not attending to any other details."

"Gotcha," I said.

Kelsi rolled her eyes, "I thought you had it all planned out? That's why we haven't offered any advice yet. My God, have you even _gone_ dress shopping yet?" I slowly shook my head and Kelsi's eyes widened even more. "I had my dressed picked out, like, six months before the actual event!"

"Well, my dress will be picked out six weeks before," I stated. "There have been more important things going on."

"What's more important than your wedding day?" The question does not come from Kelsi or even Elizabeth, but rather Ryan.

"Absolutely nothing," I said turning to him. "But there are other things that take precedent at the moment. For example, the upcoming deadline for my book. I'm due to testify in court about a case from a year ago. Regular work – Mac's putting me on the skeleton crew this week on top of my regular shift. Then there's the tiny fact that Troy's out of the city at the moment."

"Oh that's right," noted Ryan. "When's playoff end?"

"Whenever they're out of the running," I said. "Latest is like June fourteenth."

"Only a week before the wedding," gasped Kelsi.

"Technically a week and a half," I muttered. "And he'll be back in town soon. If they win this set, then they play in Madison Square Garden again." I turned to Elizabeth and her big book of wedding plans. "I've always wanted the flowers at my wedding to be white calla-lilies," I confessed to her.

"Ooh, those are very classic and beautiful," agreed Elizabeth.

"Maybe you can arrange them with red roses and baby breath and I dunno… orchids?"

"That sounds lovely Gabriella." She made a note on her Blackberry before glancing up again, her eyes shining at the excitement of actually planning the wedding.

I glanced to Kelsi who gave me a thumbs up. "Well we're gonna continue on to our destination Gabi," she said. "I'll call you so that we can go dress shopping."

"Mhm." I gave them both hugs and kissed Aidan on the head before the little family departed. I pulled a few china choices in front of me, internally cringing at the frilly designs. "We – well I – wanted something fairytale like, but still very classic and simplistic. No frills," I stated vehemently. "But something, like, traditional circle plates with a black strip around the edge."

"Not very impressive," sniffed Elizabeth.

"That's fine with us," I told her. "Troy and I aren't the stately types. Color scheme though, I was thinking white and red."

"Signifies unity in roses," revealed Elizabeth.

"Well it just seems like a good combination in my head," I shrugged. "It's either that or peach."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I'll see how your suggestions all blend together."

"Actually, Elizabeth, focus on the white. And black. Use red sparingly, as like an accent color." She nodded and made another note while I drank the last of the cappuccino in front of me. "Think simple. The decorations aren't supposed to be the center of everyone's attention. Troy and I are."

:::

"_How'd you come up with red, white, and black?_" Troy's voice crackled over through my phone's speaker.

Shrugging even though he cannot see me, I responded, "I dunno. The guys will be wearing black suits with white shirts and black ties, the bridesmaids will all have black dresses –"

"_You'll be the vision in white,_" interrupted Troy.

I laughed. "Yeah, I'll be wearing white. I just thought we needed another color besides black and white and since red is supposed to signify love," I trailed off.

"_I gotcha_," he replied. "_I can't wait to see you though._"

A smile stretched across my face. "I can't wait to see you either. How's the team? You guys burnt out yet?"

I heard Troy stretch out and the noise behind him diminished. "_Nah, we love the extra playing time. Meyers was talking about how he'd like it if the season stretched on forever_."

"Isn't Meyers one of the newbies?"

"_Yep_," answered Troy. "_Wait a few years and he'll be groaning with the rest of us." _I snorted._ "So what're you doing Ella? I'm almost positive you ditched Elizabeth long ago_."

"I did. We had a nice chat for about thirty minutes. Ryan and Kelsi showed up, then left and we talked for another ten before I made up a story about needing to be at work."

"_Devious_," teased Troy. "_So my question still stands. What are you doing?_"

"I'm at work."

I practically heard Troy's eye roll. "_I thought you were working the skeleton crew this week._"

"That means nothing," I told him. "That's just overtime. My regular hours still stand."

"_Your regular hours are overtime within themselves._"

"I'm trying to cover people's shifts now so that when we're off on our honeymoon I feel less guilty about leaving the team down a member," I said as I ducked into the building that housed the New York Police Department's Crime Lab. I nodded to the security officer, signed in, and then slipped into the elevator that would take me to the thirty-fifth floor.

"_I see, I see. Any idea where that honeymoon is gonna be?_"

"I was thinking Antarctica, then we can share body heat to keep us warm."

Troy snorted, "_Quit being a wiseass._"

"Whatever," I told him as I elbowed my way out of the metal box and into the hustle and bustle of the lab. "How about the Mediterranean?"

"_Like a cruise?_"

"Or like Greece."

"_Doable_," was Troy's reply. "_I was thinking the Caribbean though._"

"And I'm thinking not." This was a previous argument. The week after Troy proposed we started arguing not about how many guests we should invite or when we should get married but where we were going to spend the honeymoon. "You do realize that by this rate we're just gonna be spending our two weeks in New York?"

"_That's not too bad_."

"If I could hit you right now I would," I threatened. Troy just laughed loudly and I rolled my eyes. "We'll figure it out."

"_Just like we do everything else_," assured Troy. "_I really shouldn't keep you any longer. I'm sure Mac is not appreciative._"

"Mac doesn't care. I'm not due for another three hours."

"_Then why are you there?_" Troy's tone was incredulous.

"I'm bored."

"_Of course you are_," Troy paused and I could hear muffled talking. "_I gotta go Ella. There's a press junket thing that I'm being forced to attend._"

"Go have fun Superstar," I told him, my heart heavy.

"_I love you_," was his soft reply.

"I love you, too." There was a click and then Troy was gone, back to Los Angeles while I was stuck in New York. The west coast never seemed so far away until now. I sighed and looked down at my iPhone for just another moment before I shuffled over to the trace lab.

:::

"Whoa Montez, what are you doin' here?"

I rolled my eyes as I pulled on a lab coat and walked over to Danny Messer's side. "Nice greeting, jerk."

"Oh I'm sorry," he teased. "Was I supposed to bow down and say greetings your majesty?" Danny asked before doing a poor imitation of a bow.

"Oh shut up Messer," I grumbled as he laughed loudly. "What're you doing?"

"Backlogged evidence from a breaking and entering last week," he said. "Quiet day for now. Everyone's catching up on paperwork."

"My kind of shift," I replied. "You need any help?"

"Nah, it's pretty cut and dry. I'm just dustin' for prints and running 'em through AFIS."

"Cool, then I'm gonna go hide in my office."

"Linds is in," Danny called out as I headed towards the door. I just flashed him a smile as I walked down the hallway. I waved to Lindsay Messer as I passed her office. She was on her phone so I didn't stop by. I walked to the next door and collapsed into the office that I shared with Sheldon Hawkes. The doctor was out and the overhead lights were off. I slipped off my bag and unholstered my gun, reveling in the quietness of the room compared to the hallway.

Leaning back in my chair, I powered up my laptop and went through the messages on my desk. Some of them were reports regarding evidence I had wanted processed. I had approval on my requested vacation days. There was a reminder from the district attorney that I was due in court next Tuesday. Sid had finished his final autopsy report on a victim of mine. Stella had left a reminder that we and Lindsay were going out for lunch tomorrow. There was the latest _Journal_ _of_ _Forensic_ _Science_.

My inbox was pretty much the same as well. There was a handful of wedding RSVPs. Elizabeth had emailed ideas regarding the china design (_again_). My publisher had emailed the schedule for my upcoming press tour. Sharpay had emailed me saying that she would be flying in from Los Angeles in a few days, her show had been picked up for a third season, and that there was a new guy in her life. Taylor had forwarded an email about the Mayor's banquet and how I was her 'date to the goddamn thing'.

All in all, it was pretty normal stuff. Well, normal for me at least. Other people may have looked at that collection and wondered what had happened to their perfectly normal (and boring) lives.

Donnie found me a few hours later slurping a large espresso from the coffee cart outside. He was looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for a homicide detective and I told him as much. His response was a cuff to the head. He leaned against my glass desk while I lounged in my chair.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, detective?" I asked him.

"Can't I see my best friend?" he responded.

"Perhaps, but I've come to learn that you don't just drop by to see me." There was a smile on my face that took any spite out of the sentence.

Don just rolled his eyes, "I'm just checking up on you, since Bolton's out of town I was wondering how you were holding up."

"Just fine, I've taken care of myself for a long time."

"No one is doubting that Brie," he told me with a sincere look in his eyes. "But it's my duty to check up on you."

"Did someone set you up to this?" I asked him warily.

"Nope," he answered with an easy shrug. "I put myself up to this. You know that. I've always looked after you. Actually, I'm kinda pissed that Bolton's encroaching on my territory."

A soft smile spread across my face at those words. It was true. Don always had been the one to check up on me and I appreciated it. I don't think I had ever told him thank you for looking out for me. For taking over the role my dad used to fill. I always considered Don my best friend, but our connection ran deeper than just that moniker. Don was a best friend and a brother and a father all rolled into one.

"You're right," I said. "I shouldn't be suspicious that you have my best intentions at heart."

"No mushy stuff Brie, that's not how we roll."

"No," I told him as I got up from the chair to stand in front of him. The affect was not that impressive. The foot that I gained from standing up didn't make me any less petite compared to Don's six foot three frame. "However, I don't think I've ever properly thanked you."

"I don't need thanks Brie. I was doing it 'cause I care about you."

"Yeah, well, I have something to ask of you. I'm not really above making you my maid of honor." Don snorted. "There's a role in the wedding that is empty. Originally, it was going to stay empty. But, I've realized that someone else has helped fill that empty space… I guess what I'm trying to say is would you give me away Donnie?"

Don looked down at me, his blue eyes were full of love as he nodded and pulled me into a crushing hug. "I would be honored to Brie."

My muffled "Thanks" just made him hug me harder.

Mac found us like that a few minutes later, bursting in on the personal moment to remind us where we were. "A body was found on the Upper East Side. It's all hands on deck."

Don and I looked up and nodded simultaneously. Murder never did have perfect timing.

* * *

Review Please!


	3. Gotta Love NYC Royalty

**Thanks for reviewing/alerting/fav-ing: **_mo9526, armmisc, ilovesmiles, flying-green-monkey, unknownbyhim22 , ____Midnight113__, _&_ caro9623 _

**Disclaimer:** HSM belongs to Disney. CSI: NY belongs to CBS.

* * *

**A Moment of Change**

**Chapter 3**

_We're beautiful and dirty rich – Lady Gaga_

:::

I hitched a ride with Don in his _Buick_, while Danny and Stella drove to the Upper East Side crime scene in the _Avalanche_. Apparently, when Mac said "All hands on deck" he really meant the four of us. Stella was the supervising criminalist this time around, Mac not wanting to spend hours on end with Don, Dan, and I again. His loss, in my opinion.

Don was playing some oldies radio station as the siren blared and the lights flashed in an attempt to quickly reach the scene.

"So who's the vic?" I asked messing around with my kit, double checking that I had everything.

"Not sure yet," Don replied. "The uniform on call told me nothing when I called him up. All I know is that she's important."

"It's a she," I clarified. Don nodded as he pulled the sedan to a stop and the two of us hopped out.

"And _she _is famous," added Don.

I rolled my eyes, "In what way?" We flashed our badges to gain access into the condominium complex.

"I don't know," he countered. "I don't even know her name yet."

"Is she famous in the way of that one girl you dated awhile back? The one who was cozy with the mayor. Or is she famous in the way of like Sharpay?"

"Or you, you mean?" teased Don. I muttered something unintelligible as we stepped into the elevator and Don punched the penthouse button.

"Nice digs," I commented as happy elevator music played above.

Don rolled his eyes. "Don't you live in the penthouse?"

"It's not the penthouse, it's a triplex," I defended.

"Oh my bad," grinned Don as we stepped out of the elevator and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. We had beat Stella and Danny to the scene. "A triplex is even more important than the penthouse right?"

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. Before Troy had even proposed on New Year's Eve, the two of us had been thinking about moving in together and amidst the talk we had decided that while both of our condos were nice, they weren't well-suited for more than one person. After the proposal, we refocused on the hunt for a new home and came up with this triplex on Fifth Avenue. Normally, Troy and I liked to avoid the piles of cash we had sitting in our bank accounts, but a home is important to us. It's a place where we hoped to live out the rest of our lives, possibly have a family in. So putting down a few million for the home was not that difficult when we considered what it would mean in the long run. "You _know_ my new home is amazing."

"And costs more than I will ever have," he said.

"Tough luck detective."

"You know maybe I should write a book."

I snorted as I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and started taking overall shots of the scene. "Your book would flop before a publisher even decided to pick it up."

Don chuckled, "Bitter are we?"

"Nope," I told him, glancing up momentarily. "I'm the one rolling in royalty checks."

Don shook his head as he walked over to the officer guarding the door to ask him a few questions. Danny and Stella showed up moments later to help me document the scene and started bagging evidence. Time passed slowly as the three of us meticulously documented everything in the room.

I pulled back from snapping pictures to really _look_ at the victim. She was young, early twenties. Her features were vaguely recognizable; her brown hair was limp and her amber eyes were dull. She was dressed for a party; Louboutin stilettos and what looked to be a last season Gucci dress, her iPhone was placed on the table just feet from where her body sat. Besides the grayish tinge to her skin and the blank stare, she didn't look dead. There were no wounds, no ligature marks, no petechial hemorrhaging to suggest suffocation. It looked as if she had sat down and died. The placement of the body was weird. She was sitting on the leather love seat, arms and legs placed _just_ _so_. And she looked so _familiar_. I had been staring at the body for five long minutes before Danny voiced the thoughts swirling through my mind.

"Looks weird doesn't it?" Danny asked his Staten Island accent at odds with the Manhattan décor.

"Yeah," I said, drawing out the word. "She seems posed. No one would stay in Louboutin heels once they hit the threshold unless they were bringing someone home."

"Speaking from experience Montez," Danny ribbed.

"Possibly," I countered. "Not that you have any."

Danny made a face and mimed throwing something at me when Stella stepped in to intervene. "Now I know why Mac refuses to go to scenes with you three anymore," she said with a laugh.

I shrugged, "We keep everyone entertained."

"Everyone?" asked Stella knowingly. "Or just yourselves."

"Does it really matter?" I inquired with a smile and Stella shook her head.

"As long as you get the job done, kiddo."

"And we always do," Danny said, miming tipping his hat. I rolled my eyes. Don chose that moment to step back into the entryway.

"Vic's name is Silena Hathaway. She's twenty-four and a long-time resident of New York," he announced sadly.

"Damn," Stella noted. "Always worse when they're young. She's a pretty girl."

"Yeah," agreed Don. "I talked to the doorman. He said she was polite and nice, went out partying late but didn't come back reeking of alcohol. Not many guys in her life. Just one who is actually a pretty recent addition to this girl's life. Name's uh –" Don stopped for a moment to check his notepad, but I blurted out the name before he could find it.

"Logan Carney."

Don looked up, "Yeah how'd you know that?"

"'Cause I know her, however fleetingly I do know her," my voice sounded pained as I admitted it. "She's friends with one of the up-and-coming fashion designers that I'm friends with. We chatted a couple weeks ago at a show down at the Plaza. Her boyfriend Logan was there, he and Troy spent the entire time talking about the Mets chances to make it to the World Series. She was sweet."

Don nodded consolingly. "Well, the doorman said that she got in pretty early last night, 'round one a.m., boyfriend dropped her off before driving away. He also said that no one else has stopped by since then. Also mentioned that for the penthouses there is a separate elevator and that you need a special key."

"Well duh," I said, reverting to a sixth-grader for a moment. "The people who live in these penthouses have no right to share an elevator with the commoners who have a studio apartment. They require the gold-plated ones."

Danny snorted as he brought his camera up to photograph an errant fiber embedded in the carpet. "Gotta love New York's royalty. What'd she do anyway?"

"Actress," I answered for Don. "Up and comer, actually. She landed a guest starring role on a CW drama that quickly turned her into an overnight sensation and she signed on as a series regular just a couple of weeks ago. She was great."

"Yeah," said Don in a clipped tone. "Anyways, I've got reporters encircling this place like vultures and most likely a housekeeper lookin' to make a few extra Benjamin's on the side, what say we do ladies and gent?"

"Nothing," said Stella before Danny or I could say something crude. "Or job is to find Silena Hathaway's killer not feed a tragic story to the press. One of us can make an official statement later on when we have something more to say than, "The investigation is ongoing." Deal?"

"Deal," Don, Danny, and I echoed and the four of us went back to analyzing the crime scene. Well, Danny, Stella, and I did; Don stood around and snooped through her drawers.

"You know what I find strange?" asked Stella. The three of us looked up at her. "Her boyfriend wasn't going to join her for a nightcap and the doorman said that no one came up to meet her. Why is she still dressed in party clothes?"

"Unless she was planning on going somewhere else and the killer interrupted her plans," I suggested. "I mean one a.m. is a pretty early end time. Especially since her show is on summer hiatus and she has no other projects lined up. Parties like the ones she and her boyfriend frequent normally go until five in the morning."

Stella looked perplexed. Danny just kneeled by the glass side table and began dusting for prints. Don caught my eye and nodded at the open bottle of wine cooling on the bar. "I think she had a visitor. There're two empty wine glasses in the dryer by the sink."

"Doin' my job Detective?" I teased.

"Just coverin' all the bases, Montez," he replied as I pulled out my camera and number markers to document both pieces of evidence. Don and I left Stella and Danny in the living room to search through the rest of the spacious penthouse. We paused in the doorway of the master bedroom.

"Well," began Don. "She didn't sleep here last night."

I rolled my eyes and moved further into the room. The bed was perfectly made up waiting for Silena to sleep in it, save for the Chanel clutch thrown haphazardly on the magenta sheets.

"Y'know," I said. "Even if Troy and I did have a maid service, our bedroom would never look this perfect. There's always something off about it, like his gym bag and corresponding sweaty jersey tossed in a corner or an outfit of mine that smells a bit too ripe after being at a crime scene in a pile because I was too lazy to place it in the hamper."

"Too much info," Don noted absentmindedly as he peeked through Silena's closet.

"I thought you liked to be kept up to date on my personal life."

"I have to draw the line somewhere Montez." Don gave me a wide smile. "When _does_ the fiancé arrive home?"

I opened the door to Silena's closet and poked around the designer clothes. "You should know that," I called out, voice muffled. "You're the sports fanatic. When _do_ the Knicks finish their playoff run?"

Don followed me into the small room and pulled on my ponytail in amusement. "Stop being such a smartass Brie," he said.

I threw a reproachful glare at him and left the closet to enter the adjoining bathroom. I glanced around at the white-tiled room. It was pretty unremarkable compared to the rest of the luxurious penthouse. Although, the spa tub at the back was a nice touch. Don was messing around with the drawers – I could hear him opening and closing things in the background.

"Are you wearing gloves?" I asked him, opening and then closing the door to Silena's shower.

"I've been at this for how long?" Don countered, a dark eyebrow raised.

I shrugged, "You detectives have some sort of aversion to latex so I was just wondering. Find anything?"

Don shook his head, "Not a pill in sight. Surprising for a girl like her."

I hit him in the chest. "Way to stereotype," I groused. "Not all socialites who party also do drugs. I have never done it."

"I'd hope not," said Don seriously. "And I wasn't stereo-whatever-ing."

I rolled my eyes. "You were just being a good detective?" I inquired innocently.

Don frowned at my sarcasm, but nodded. I just squatted down and pilfered through the trash next to the sink. There were the usual things: used tissues, errant strands of hair, old razor, empty lotion bottle, and a…

"Guess I was wrong," I announced to Don who had returned back to the closet. He doubled back into the bathroom to find me holding up a used syringe. "It's empty, so the lab'll have to determine what drug was in here."

Don's face showed surprise. "I'll have the medical examiner check for needle marks. Did you see any?"

I shook my head, "No, and Danny and Stella didn't mention it either." I watched as Don took notes in his book and I turned back to photograph the syringe and the contents of the wastebasket, before pulling out a bag from my pocket and placing the syringe in it.

Danny chose that moment to find us. "Are you two workin' on your disappearing act?" his voice echoed through the tiled room. "'Cause Stella and I aren't doin' all the work while you guys get kinky."

I threw my balled up gloves at him as he entered the bathroom, Stella following closely behind. "Don and I found some pretty incriminating evidence," I told him smugly.

"Oh damn," grinned Danny. "Is this gonna be an open-and-shut? Have you got a suspect already in the bag? Do I get to go home and have a beer?"

"Oh shut up, Messer," I told him. Danny's grin just got wider. I held up the bag with the syringe clearly inside.

"Someone was shootin' up," he noted.

"I didn't notice any marks on the victim," said Stella, finally entering the conversation.

I shrugged, "It's a conundrum."

"It could just be someone else's."

"Or it could be that."

Stella sighed and took the bag from my grasp. "I'll put this with the rest of the evidence. The ME is here, so I'll let them know that we're looking for a needle mark. Danny, Gabriella, did you guys...?"

"We've photographed and marked everything," Danny assured Stella. "Gabs checked the other rooms, right?"

I nodded my assent and then picked up the conversation, "We did the sketches, too. And, the paperwork."

Don added on, "I got my guys canvassing the area, but we're pretty doubtful that anyone's gonna come forward. It's New York after all. Plus she lives in the penthouse. I'm pulling surveillance and getting it sent to Adam at the lab."

Stella nodded. "Okay you three, we've been here a good four hours, go grab some food. It'll take a while for the lab to start analyzing some of the evidence anyways. Mac's got a double in the Bronx that takes priority." She left the bathroom, leaving Don, Danny, and me to our own devices.

"Burgers and fries?" I asked the room at large.

* * *

Review Please!


	4. The Ticket Dilemma

**A/N:** hey. so it's been a little while, but i've had AP tests to study for and i kinda got sidetracked by an amazing show called _chuck_ so sadly this story got brushed under the rug. but it's back again! at least for a little while since i somehow agreed to a bigbang challenge on livejournal, lol.

also, i hate fishing for reviews cause it's just not me but i was wondering if anyone is still really interested? it was kinda like a tumbleweed town last chapter... i mean i'll still post but if no one's really reading i kinda lose the drive to write. so could you guys leave a word? even if it's saying that this is the worst thing you've ever read? please :)

**Thanks for reviewing/alerting/fav-ing:**_ Midnight113, elbbubniaevili, hsmhsm, unknownbyhim22, _&_ silenceeverything_

**Disclaimer:** HSM belongs to Disney. CSI: NY belongs to CBS.

* * *

**A Moment of Change**

**Chapter 4**

_And I chose guitar over ballet and I'd take these suckers down cause they just get in my way._  
_- Katy Perry _

:::

I love New York City. On the corner of one block it is design couture and on the other, a hole in the wall pawn shop. It's especially nice when I can put down fifteen dollars on a complete meal compared to one hundred dollars for an artfully designed plate. Danny, Don, and I took the Buick; Stella having left with the Avalanche before the three of us realized we were dismissed. Much to my annoyance, I'm relegated to the back seat where the drunks and delinquents normally sit.

There was this burger place that the three of us tended to frequent. Not too far from the crime lab or the precinct, it's one of those surprising New York places. Located in Le Parker Meridian, the Burger Joint served up nothing but good, greasy, American food.

Plus, the location was pretentious enough that most cops would not go within ten blocks of the place. Danny and Don wouldn't either at first. I had to all but drag them in. But the place has become our regular spot when we actually have twenty minutes for lunch.

"So what's the plan?" Danny asked when our food has finally arrived.

I took my time swallowing part of my cheeseburger before answering. "Well we've gotta analyze the evidence don't we? And make a visit to Sid to see what the prelim has to say."

Sid Hammerback's our chief medical examiner at the NYPD. A little eccentric, but overall great guy, Sid was always sure to put our team's cases before any other investigators. And, his preliminary autopsy reports were the best in the business.

"Not about that Montez," corrected Danny. "Bolton. Can your guy hook us up with playoff tickets?"

I threw a fry at Danny. "I asked you weeks ago if you wanted a ticket and you were all indifferent about it!"

"That was when we thought they didn't have a shot at anything."

"They always have a shot. They're the best team in the NBA."

Don snorted, "What's Miami then?"

"An unfortunate opponent," I swiftly replied.

"Listen, Gabs, you're always goin' to games. Think you could hook us up once?" said Danny, leaning in.

I contemplated the request while taking another bite of my burger. Troy had given me a block of tickets before he had to go on the road for the playoffs. He told me that some guy owned him a favor and to invite whomever I wanted. Danny and Don were probably my best bets, considering that they were the huge sports fans, but I could just as easily persuade any of my other friends to go to a big-time game. I picked up the paper napkin and wiped some ketchup off of my face, all while Don and Danny watched on in anticipation. Reaching into my purse, I slowly extricated my wallet.

"Okay," I said. Before I could get any other words out Danny and Don's faces lit up like Christmas trees. I held my wallet protectively at my side. "Listen up, if I give you two these tickets, don't just assume that I'll be able to do this all the time. Someone owed Troy a favor, so he managed to get a block of tickets. I could just as easily take this back and offer them to Stella and Linds and, like, Taylor."

"Taylor hates basketball," Don replied.

"Don't you think I know that? It would be payback for the mayoral thingy she's making me go to Friday."

Donnie smirked in amusement. "Hey," I said. "No laughing at my expense, I just might reclaim the tickets."

"You haven't given us tickets yet Gabi," pointed out Danny. I sighed and opened my wallet, removing three tickets from a sleeve within. "Give the other to Linds," I told Danny as I doled out the thick paper.

"Third row, courtside," exclaimed Danny. "High-quality."

"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes. "I've been demoted with you guys, normally I'm in the front row."

"Well _we're _normally stuck in the third level," said Donnie.

"Touché," I noted in amusement.

"So who else'll be going?" asked Danny, as we returned to our lunch.

"There're two more tickets. One of 'em is for Troy's best friend and I'm not sure about the last one."

"For you?" inquired Don.

I shook my head, "That's not including me. I might just invite Taylor for payback. She'd enjoy the alcohol I'm sure."

"Such an eclectic lifestyle," said Don.

"Such an impressive vocabulary," I replied before draining my Diet Coke. Don eyed me for a moment before returning to his double cheeseburger. I watched Danny munch on his pickle as yellow taxi cabs and tourists with fanny packs passed by outside.

:::

"Cover for me?" I asked Lindsay in a rush. I pulled off my latex gloves before she could give me an answer and was out of my white lab coat before I was out of the room, Lindsay's garbled reply cut off by the closing door.

I yanked my hair out of its ponytail and gave a cursory glance at my appearance in one of the glass walls. My breath probably smelled like coffee, but after twenty hours on shift that was something I just could not fix.

Jabbing at the down button on the escalator, I bounced on the balls of my feet ineffectively mimicking Danny's nervous habit. I bit back an exhaled, "Finally," when the elevator doors opened and I slipped inside the box and pressed the number that would take me to the lobby.

"I told you we can't keep meeting like this," I said as I exited the elevator and met with my unexpected visitor. "People talk you know and someone is bound to tell Troy."

Chad Danforth turned at my greeting and grinned widely before sweeping me into a huge hug. "Well there's the Gabster."

I laughed and accepted the Starbucks cup in his hand. "Thanks."

"No problemo," he said.

Chad is Troy's best friend. Since kindergarten, as I am told repeatedly. At five ten, with an afro atop his head, Chad doesn't seem like he used to be a coveted basketball recruit, but – as I am, again, told repeatedly – he was wanted more than Troy before an accident led to Chad never being able to play ball again. I have gotten their story in bits and pieces, mostly when the two are drunk and desperate to reminisce over the good times. Chad works as a sports announcer with ESPN, critiquing during basketball and baseball season and seems to live with Troy and I more than at his own apartment.

"But really, Danforth," I said in between a huge gulp of espresso. "Why'd you make the long trip to Midtown?"

"A little birdie told me that you're the one holding my ticket hostage."

"A little birdie huh? That little birdie wouldn't happen to have striking blue eyes?"

"Wouldn't know. But, do you have it?"

"Possibly," I shifted my weight and searched for a set of benches. "I was told to guard these with my life though, so I'll need the password."

"I brought you coffee Montez."

"Bribery can only get you so far."

We stared each other down, waiting for the other to crack. Chad did first, he always does.

"Troy told me," he said in a rush, sitting down on the wooden bench. "Jeez woman, you've got a stare."

"Comes in handy when a perp is being particularly difficult," I said happily, sitting beside him. "Unfortunately, my purse is in my locker upstairs. Can you wait until I get off shift before you can get your precious ticket?"

"I don't think my poor heart could stand that," teased Chad, dramatically throwing a hand over his heart.

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Quit messing around, Danforth."

"Ah, I was going to raid your kitchen anyways, so you can give it to me then."

I snort, "Stupendous."

"It's in the guy code, Gabster. Thou shall share foodstuffs and alcohol."

"Is thou shall share cable there too?"

"Funnily enough, in Troy's and mine it is."

I glanced at Chad out of the corner of my eyes. We sat side by side and faced forward, watching as people in suits passed by. I took another sip out of my cup while Chad took a deep breath. The two of us shouldn't really be friends. Chad still acted like he was the high school hero and cruised through life like it was a party every day. I, meanwhile, thought about the future and the future only, always mindful of the next step in my life. Troy was the beginning of our comradeship, but we developed a friendship all on our own. I think that Chad reminds me to have fun. It's not like I don't let loose with anyone else, but there is a different vibe with the afro-haired sports fanatic.

"Hoops gets back on Sunday," ventured Chad. Hoops, by the way, is Chad's nickname for Troy. Appropriate, right?

"Whether or not they win against the Lakers," I nodded.

"They better win. The Lakers are just cruising on, they don't deserve to win the championship this season."

"Yeah," I said stretching the word out. "Not in the mood for a rant right now, Chadster."

"Oh c'mon."

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. I got up from the bench and sipped the last of my espresso. Tipping the white cardboard at Chad I said, "Thanks for the coffee. This should keep me going for another five hours."

"How long have you been going anyway?" asked Chad in concern.

"Since one p.m., yesterday," I said after a moment. "My regular turned into a double and then I was on the skeleton crew and yeah – I'm running on coffee and not much else. My boss put me on a pretty high-profile case, so I've been analyzing evidence from the crime scene since then. I'm actually supposed to go out for lunch with a couple people today, but I don't think it's gonna happen. Too much stuff, we're swamped right now."

"You're always swamped," Chad pointed out.

"I'll drink to that," I told him. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, I turned back to the elevators. "Thanks for the break though, I needed it."

"Anytime," grinned Chad. "You want me to take Skittles for a walk?"

"Could you please?" I asked. "That'd be perfect."

Chad gave me a thumbs-up before disappearing out the doors and into the ever-moving crowd. As I waved good-bye, my phone trilled in my pocket, signaling a new message.

**New TXT Message: Sid Hammerback  
****Autopsy done. I've got something interesting for you.**


End file.
